


Bloodletting

by a_chilleus



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Guilt, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Self-Harm, as usual you can see it as pre-romantic or platonic, seriously major tw for self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23445751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_chilleus/pseuds/a_chilleus
Summary: This might not work. In fact, it would probably kill him. If that was his destiny, so be it, he thought bitterly.Magic was in his blood, the Great Dragon had once told him.
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 231





	Bloodletting

“Merlin, for god’s sake…”

He tuned out Gaius’ voice, staring at a spot on the wall across the room. He didn’t need to hear the same lecture again, not for the fifth time in what felt like as many months. He was reckless, he was stupid, he was careless; his magic was to be kept a secret no matter what. He didn’t ask if Gaius was ashamed of him. He knew the answer, even if Gaius wouldn’t admit it even to himself.

“Merlin, are you even listening?”

Merlin grimaced, and dug his nails into his palm.

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

* * *

It had been a close call. An assassination attempt; chaos, eyes burning with smoke, Gwaine yelling for help as another knight screamed in either pain or terror, Merlin didn’t want to know. A quarter of the knights did not return from the trip, and Merlin caught the haunted look in the eyes of those who returned for weeks afterwards when they were out of sight of the others.

He knew the names of every knight who had died. They all did, of course they did – the knights were like brothers. But Leon had seemed surprised when Merlin asked after the mother of the youngest, Gahariet. He made no comment, merely confirming that she was doing as well as could be expected, but Merlin felt a tightness in his chest as he realised that Leon hadn’t expected him to know – or care, perhaps. It wasn’t his place. The friends he had among the knights – Gwaine, Lancelot – they were exceptions. Gahariet, Kay, Owen, they were all noblemen, and Merlin was not a part of their world.

Not that he was really part of any other, of course. He wasn’t part of Camelot, not really, but he wasn’t part of the magical world either. The people the Great Dragon called his kind weren’t anything like him. He didn’t deserve their friendship, and they would never accept him after he had refused to fight for them so many times, taking the side of the Pendragons at whatever cost, saving Arthur the heartache of losing his father at the expense of the life of another magical being, or, worse, saving his own skin. He was, at best, a coward. At worst… Uther might have been right. Maybe magic corrupts. The guilt had been building for years, and this was the final proof he needed.

It wasn’t just that he had suspected the attack – though he had not anticipated that it would happen so early on in their journey, nor the number of men involved, he should have been more prepared, he should have taken care of things before the danger ever reached Arthur. Every night he would wake up in a cold sweat, dig his nails into his thighs in an attempt to distract himself from the image of Arthur’s ashen face, blinking back the blood from his eyes, lips moving imperceptibly with words Merlin couldn’t make out, staring straight into his eyes as if Merlin’s gaze was what was keeping him in this world. And then, Arthur looked away.

It had taken magic to save him. The wound would have killed him within minutes otherwise. No matter what, Merlin couldn’t regret saving Arthur’s life. And yet, every night he dreamt of that moment. He heard his own voice, choking out the words that stemmed the tide of blood that gushed from Arthur’s neck, but they sounded to him as he felt sure they sounded to Arthur: sinister, unnatural, a voice that came from somewhere other than himself. And as he spoke, Arthur’s eyes slid from Merlin’s, looking downwards and trying to close, trying to block out the sight of the friend who had broken his trust.

* * *

Arthur didn’t speak as Merlin brought his breakfast. He didn’t eat, and Merlin waited outside until a suitable length of time had passed for him to go collect the dishes. Arthur dressed before Merlin arrived, and dismissed him silently without letting Merlin ready him for bed.

* * *

Gwaine was silent for two days, then snapped back to his usual self. Merlin could see the way the smile didn’t reach his eyes for the first week, but gradually it crept upwards – Gwaine was resilient, and cheering up the others helped him to heal too. For this reason, Merlin stayed away from Gwaine. No need for both of them to feel like failures.

* * *

He didn’t tell Gaius what had happened until a month later.

“Merlin, you have to eat.”

Merlin nodded, but didn’t touch his food.

“You can’t go on like this.”

“I know.”

Gaius sighed heavily. Merlin stood up and went to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. He heard footsteps, then a pause, then a quiet knock at his door. He didn’t answer. Gaius came in anyway, tentatively sitting next to him.

“They say it was a miracle. Arthur was sure he had been badly injured – in the neck, no less – but when he returned, the wound was barely a scratch.” Gaius raised an eyebrow. Merlin gritted his teeth. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. I expect it was… some of the knights are having nightmares, and they told me what they could manage to put into words. It must have been powerful magic to save – ”

“Arthur knows.”

Gaius opened his mouth, then closed it again. “You mean, he…”

“He heard me perform the spell to… he knows I did it.”

“He hasn’t told anyone.”

“No.”

“That was dangerous.”

Merlin stood up on shaky legs and walked to the door.

“Merlin, you – you could have been executed.”

Merlin didn’t look back as he walked out of Gaius’ chambers.

* * *

The armoury was cold, so cold it almost hurt, and Merlin briefly wished he’d brought his jacket with him, but gradually he began to feel grateful for it. There was no one around except a young guard who paced up and down the courtyard, but he had hardly taken a second to recognise Merlin and ignore him, turning away before he would have seen Merlin enter the armoury. There was no rule against him being there anyway. Gaius hadn’t followed him, and for that Merlin was very grateful.

If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to leave, he would have brought one of Gaius’ knives, but as it was, he picked up the shortest dagger he could find in the room – Lancelot’s, as it happened – and gently set about cleaning it. The action was soothingly familiar, and the motion allowed his scattered mind to focus more easily.

This might not work. In fact, it would probably kill him. If that was his destiny, so be it, he thought bitterly.

He had to try. He took off his shirt.

Magic was in his blood, the Great Dragon had once told him.

* * *

The cuts were shallow, at first, beginning at his shoulder as he warmed himself up to the deeper ones approaching his wrist. The dagger glowed gold in his hands, giving him just enough light to see by. If, as Uther used to say, magic was a kind of sickness, then this was a form of bloodletting. He half smiled at the thought. Perhaps he should have used Gaius’ leeches – though his tainted blood might poison them. He imagined them sucking on his skin and then shrivelling and dropping off, one by one, onto the floor.

He had found a spell, finally, while searching Gaius’ books late at night. There was no cure for magic, per se, but there were some that were intended to draw out curses, specifically. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close enough. Maybe it would work to remove his destiny from him too. Whichever god had given that to him couldn’t have meant anything kind by it.

So far, though, he had felt nothing except the sting of broken skin and the strange bubbling feeling of blood pooling on the surface. He observed it, detached. He was shaking slightly from the cold, and it took a great effort to keep the blade steady. There was no reason to the placement of the cuts; the spell was intended to enchant a blade to cut through a cursed object, not a person, and so he cut randomly, the pain a gratifying relief. If he had thought before that he was punishing himself, he knew now that wasn’t the case; it would be a worse punishment to refuse himself this moment of emotional numbness.

Aside from the physical pain, though, he felt nothing out of the ordinary; he supposed his magic was too deep under his skin for the dagger to have reached so far. He wasn’t sure if that made sense even to himself, but it didn’t really matter anyway. He felt lightheaded, and rested his head for a moment against the cool stone wall.

* * *

“Merlin?”

He startled at the sound of Arthur’s voice from outside. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, grateful for the cover of darkness and the long sleeves, and shoved the dagger behind him. The fast movement made his head spin, and the fabric pulled roughly at the cuts, making him wince and gasp.

“Merlin, there you are! Gaius didn’t know where you’d gone, I didn’t expect…” Arthur paused at he approached. Merlin blinked slowly at him. Arthur stilled a metre away from where Merlin sat slumped against the stone wall, looking down at him in what Merlin hazily recognised as confusion, or possibly fear.

“I… wanted to talk to you. I’ve had a lot to think about lately, so I… if I’ve been distant, it’s just because…” Arthur sighed, and sat down next to Merlin, who noted vaguely that it was a good job Arthur had chosen to sit on Merlin’s right, not his left, making it easier to hide his injured arm from view.

“Look, Merlin…” Arthur took a deep breath, then paused. “Can I smell blood? Merlin, are you hurt?” When Merlin didn’t reply, Arthur moved to crouch in front of him, eyes scanning his body. Merlin tried to stand, but his legs shook violently and his vision blurred. Arthur’s eyes widened, and Merlin followed where Arthur was looking. Just visible, despite the darkness, was a large patch of blood seeping through his sleeve; it was hard to see at first, just a darker patch on an already dark blue shirt, but once you could see it… Arthur blinked once and his shock faded, his stare hardening as Merlin had seen it do so many times when speaking to his men before a battle.

For a second Merlin thought Arthur was going to call the guards, but instead he ordered Merlin to take off his shirt, and Merlin did his best to comply with shaking hands, closing his eyes so as not to have to see Arthur’s reaction as the cuts were made visible.

“We need to take you to Gaius,” Arthur said, moving to stand.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t… I can’t explain to him.”

“Merlin, this – he’s seen this before. I know knights who have done it.” His voice shook slightly, and Merlin watched as he steadied himself the way he did before he spoke to his father. “After battles, after seeing people die, this kind of thing, it’s not uncommon.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Merlin…” Arthur sighed. “Ok, fine. I know how to bandage wounds, in a pinch. I’ll ask Gaius for supplies and bring them out here.” Merlin began to protest, but Arthur interrupted. “I won’t tell him they’re for you, so long as you let me help you.”

* * *

Merlin sat alone on the floor of the armoury, looking at Lancelot's dagger on the floor in front of him. It still glowed faintly, and Merlin wondered whether or not it had worked. He didn’t know what it felt like to not have magic. He didn’t feel any different, so he guessed he had failed. He heard Arthur’s footsteps echo across the courtyard, then saw the flicker of torchlight on the wall as Arthur opened the door.

“It’s easier in daylight,” Arthur said as he put the torch on the wall, “but this will do.”

After that the pair were silent. Arthur carefully bandaged Merlin’s wounds, and Merlin shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall. The torchlight allowed both of them to see just how much blood Merlin had actually spilled; most had gone on his trousers, seeping into large wet patches on his thighs, but there were small puddles all over the floor around him. Neither of them acknowledged it, but Merlin had seen Arthur’s eyes widen imperceptibly at the sight.

Once everything was cleaned and covered, Arthur sat cross-legged in front of Merlin.

“Really, you shouldn’t need my help with that, given what you did to me.”

Merlin startled at the casual mention of his magic. Arthur grimaced.

“Maybe you can’t do it when you’re… incapacitated.” He met Merlin’s eye. “Why did you do this?”

Merlin dropped his gaze, but Arthur shuffled forward and rested his hand on Merlin’s.

“You told me it was different from when the knights have done it. So, why?”

There was silence for a long time, until finally Merlin spoke.

“Bloodletting, in a sense. To get rid of my … the magic.”

Arthur stared at him in confusion.

“Is that even possible?”

“I don’t know.”

“Your magic saved my life. Why would you want it gone?”

“Arthur… I’m supposed to protect you. All I’ve done is betray you, put you in danger – Gwen almost got executed because of me, I could have helped Morgana but I was too damn scared, I try so hard to help but it always ends in disaster. My magic is nothing but a curse to me and to Camelot.” What had begun as a whisper ended in tears. Arthur stared at him for a few seconds, too many emotions for Merlin to recognise flashing across his face, before he grabbed both of Merlin’s hands and squeezed them.

“Don’t you dare think like that,” he whispered fiercely. “Merlin, your magic_ saved my life_. I can’t pretend I understand, I can’t say I don’t have mixed feelings on – ” he swallowed, “on sorcery…but gods, Merlin, if near killing yourself is what it would take to get rid it then it _can’t_ be evil, because you’re not evil, and something _inside you_ can’t be – you’re a good person, Merlin, I _know_ you are, and that means your magic must be good too.”

Merlin stared at him.

“I… I don’t think it worked, anyway,” was all he could manage.

“Good,” Arthur said. “Merlin, I’ve seen this before. I know you said it’s not the same, but I’ll tell you what I told the knights who I saw do this: it comes from guilt, and self-hatred, and the feeling that you should have done more than you did. But in a battle, sometimes there is no good way out. Sometimes you do all you can, and it still isn’t enough. Causing yourself pain won’t make the guilt go away, not for long, not in a way that matters.”

“The knights don’t have… what I have. The druids think I’m so powerful, they think I’m going to … make everything better, bring magic back to the kingdom, whatever. I think… they’re wrong. Every time I try, it all goes wrong.”

Arthur was silent for a moment, then he moved to Merlin’s right side and put an arm around his shoulder. Merlin tensed, then relaxed, tentatively resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur rested his head on top of Merlin’s.

“I don’t care what the druids think your destiny is, Merlin. Who fate says you’ll become doesn’t change who you are to me now.”


End file.
